A Merchant from Braavos
by SlackerJ
Summary: Frederick Hawthorne, a man from Earth, finds himself transported to the free city of Braavos after an experiment goes wrong and has to adapt. Rated T for safety but that may change as appropriate. Please read and review...
1. Chapter 1

**Auckland, New Zealand, July 2018**

Well, fuck…

I'm going to die in the Land of Ice and Fire itself. I always knew that I was going to die as a result of doing something stupid, but I always thought it would be of electrocution due to one of my friends' stupid experiments. Not in some alternate reality with no way home.

You see, my friend Jamie Ross, or _Doctor_ Jamie Ross, _PhD_ as he likes to be known, was always something of a tinkerer. Forever fiddling with electronics since he was able to move under his own power. He made his pocket money as a kid fixing stuff for his parents and then expanded to being the handyman for the neighbourhood by the time he was 11. He devoured books on various bits of electronics, physics, and whatever else as soon as he could read and was always trying to '_better humanity and the world_' or whatever.

I was one of the few kids at school who didn't mind hanging out with him. Most because I had a laundry list of problems that already made me an outcast. A list that basically consisted of being tall for my age, skinny, and red of hair, or to use the word hurled at me most often – "_NERD!"_

Still, Jamie was a decent enough conversationalist, when he wasn't peppering his sentences with scientific jargon, and relatively friendly. We spent most of our time together in his workshop (aka his parents garden shed) either testing his inventions or playing video games. Mostly testing though. On me.

Don't get me wrong, it was interesting to see what he came up with but it was also painful. It didn't take long to develop a high pain tolerance and an ad hoc medical kit for the various injuries I would inevitably end up with. Also the source of my fatalism as we got older as he developed weirder and weirder shit. Star Trek got him on trying to develop a warp drive and phasers but ended up with him burning down the shed (for the fourth time); he also tried lightsabres which led to the fifth burning down six months later.

He was bright enough to acquire a PhD by the time I was finishing a degree in chemistry and history. His degree was in quantum mechanics and engineering or something to that effect, as most've what he said sent over my heads. Regardless, his experiments had apparently led to the development of what he called a '_Dimensional Incursion/Recursion Facilitator, Mark 3.25_'. It looked like a miniature Stargate is what and apparently did something similar except with different dimensions instead of different worlds.

And I was to be the first interdimensional traveller. What he wanted to do was find an alternate universe, send through a probe to check it was capable of supporting human life, and then send me through to check the place out. It was to be the solution to world hunger; overpopulation and the like as he would be able to find Earth's that were unpopulated and send people there to set up colonies and the like. My original thought was '_good luck. People are just going to get greedy as hell and use this for some bullshit,_' or that it'd get taken off him by the government. Turns out I was wrong.

Using some government funding, Jamie managed to get it working and viable. He had his own interdimensional Stargate and was beginning to test it. Unfortunately he forgot to take one of quantum mechanics most basic tenants into consideration as I got ready to step through the portal and explore the first of many planned travels to prove the multiverse theory – Heisenberg's uncertainty principle.

As I stepped through the portal generated there was a ripple of some kind and I could hear the sounds of alarms blearing from the other side of the portal. Then yelling and the portal started to go transparent on my side of things and then the portal collapsed and there was the sound of an unholy snapping. I was blown backwards and hit a tree (as I'd appeared in a forest clearing) and fell unconscious.

At this point, I should probably introduce myself – my name is Fredrick Josiah Hawthorne, Freddie or Fred, to my friends and acquaintances. My name was proof that parents could be incredibly cruel the world over but I'd learned to live with it over the years.

**South of Braavos, 290 AC**

I waited around for an hour or two to see if the problem would be corrected and I'd get a portal home, but no such luck. It would appear that I was stuck in a forest on an unknown world with the possibility of human civilisation somewhere. All I needed was to find it and pray that they understood English, or French, Latin or basic German. I'd taken a number of language papers during my time at Uni and was part of the reason that Jamie was able to finish well before me (he still would've but taking a number of extra papers extended my time).

It was nearing nightfall by the time I was able to find a road. It thankfully looked well-travelled so that was a positive. The downside being that there was no one in sight to ask for directions or some kind of tavern or inn to beg for a place to stay in exchange for some kind of service. This was mostly because all I had on me was the clothes I was wearing (military surplus boots, fatigues, shirt and jacket) and a backpack containing some MRE's, sample taking equipment, a bottle of water and a book or two, a pistol on my hip, and some sunglasses. This was all premised on the fact that I'd be spending maybe a couple of hours here and not possibly the rest of my life.

Flipping a coin and heading right down the road, I got about a kilometre or two before I found a bush to sleep under. It wasn't pretty or comfortable, but it kept me out of sight so that was good enough. I kept moving the next morning after chowing down on an MRE. I was going to need to make them last or go hunting. I had a couple of clips for the pistol but it wasn't exactly a hunting weapon and I didn't have the skills for actual hunting. The first, and consequently only, time my father took me hunting I managed to accidentally shoot him in the ass with a .202 and proved to be near useless with a rifle. I turned out to be above adequate with pistols however and for that I was thankful.

Regardless, I trudged along, humming to myself and occasionally singing to keep myself entertained. It took two whole days before I came across any sign of civilisation and found some kind of way station that sat at a fork where two roads became one and the signs of civilisation could be seen in the distance. About a day's travel if I was any judge towards society in the distance, but at least this rest stop would beat sleeping in a bush. Provided I could negotiate a stay and actually spoke their language. Along with the fact that they were hopefully human or human looking.

Thank god they were human looking at least as I stepped inside. I must've been a curious sight to the proprietor, dressed the way I was. The man behind the bar was dressed in a curious mix of medieval or renaissance style and have me a mixed look.

"_Parlez-vous cotte langue, mon ami?_" Blank look. "_Quid igitur est?_" Another blank look. '_Well, fuck. That leaves,_ "_Sprichst du Deutsch?_"

This was just making the guy behind the guy behind the counter more and more confused. "Well fuck me. You wouldn't happen to understand me now would you?" That seemed to illicit a laugh at least.

"I would, yes," was his reply once he stopped.

"Thank fucking god, 'cause I don't speak anything else," I offered with a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't be totally fucked. Hopefully.

"It certainly helps to know Westerosi, given how many of their kin we get trading in these parts," commented the man. "Why don't you pull up a seat?"

I did so, with great thanks, slumping into a seat in front of him, a content sigh escaping my lips again as I took a load off my feet. "So, what can I get you?" Asked the man as he continued to eye me up.

"Whatever this'll get me," I replied as I dug into my pocket, pulled out my wallet and dumped about three or so dollars' worth of shrapnel onto the counter. The man whistled appreciatively as he picked up the coin and began to examine it.

"I've never seen currency like this before," he observed. "Where's it from?"

I thought for half a second and decided to be as vague as possible and went with, "down south."

"Huh. Doesn't look like anything from Norvos or Pentos. And you don't look like you're from Myr. You from Tyrosh?" I shrugged noncommittally. Pentos sounded familiar and was tweaking my memory somewhat as it sounded something pop culture related. He sighed. "This'll get you a meal and a drink," he offered as he pushed a bunch of the copper coins back, "and a room for the night if you want one?"

"Love one thanks. Been trekking on foot for a long while and I could do with a proper bed. What's the city up north?"

"Braavos, my friend," he said like I was an idiot. "The greatest of the Free Cities of Essos!"

"Good to know," was all that escaped my mouth. Well, fuck a duck and name him buck. Apparently Jamie had gone and dumped me in the world of Game of Thrones. This was going to be fun and that was no mistake. The question was, where about in the time stream I was and if I could avoid the hell out of the goings on in the show.

**Braavos, Fifth Moon 290 AC**

I ate my meal and drank in near silence after that. The revelation of where I was hit me hard and knocked most've the conversation out of me. Though I was happy to answer my host's questions with as much vagueality as I could manage and he eventually took the hint and left me too it. After that I was taken to a room and shown where the facilities (read: toilet) was, but I apparently didn't have enough for a bath so there was that.

The next day I successful made it to the port city of Braavos with barely a penny to my name and no fucking idea what to do next. I had no money, very few items of worth and nought but the clothes on my back and the stuff in my pack. The only means I had of defence was a gun with limited ammunition and once that ran out, I would be screwed. Especially as I didn't know how to use a sword, or the means to acquire one even if I did.

After using the last of my shrapnel (and the excuse of being from Tyrosh) to take the short trip from the end of the trade road to the city itself, I found myself wondering the streets. It was a lively place and full of people rushing to and fro as they all went about their business. I barely stood out amongst the different dressed people that called this place home.

Must've made myself out to be an easy mark but giving off tourist-y vibes, or that's the assumption as I was suddenly accosted by a small band of youths and backed by them from the close quartered street into an even more close quartered alleyway created by the haphazard placement of five or so houses and shops.

"_Entregue su moneda, viajero y no se le hará daño,_" declared the idiot I assumed to be the group's leader. He had pulled out a sword in the process and was holding it my throat once we were out of sight.

"Listen, mi amigo, I don't want any trouble, but I don't have any money," I offered as calmly as I could. Meanwhile I was tugging at the clip of my gun holster so that I could draw my pistol if I needed to.

"Then your bag will just have to do, _mi amigo_," spat the leader with the emphasis displaying the contempt he apparently held me in. Which was fair enough but that just wasn't going to do. I might just have to kill this guy. Hopefully I would be able to claim self-defence or something like that if I did…

"How about no?" Was my retort as I drew my pistol. It was a modified SAC-46, an air gun designed by the OSS to neutralize opponents securely at a distance without being detected at a distance. It made half the noise of a real gun, and had been modified by Jamie to have a bit more stopping power. The dude made a move and met with a small bang and a hole in his heart.

His friends looked a little stunned as their leader stumbled sideways into one of the walls and began to slump downwards. I turned to them with the pistol (now with two bullets remaining, another modification) and a grin. "All right, mi amigos. How about you leave your coin and we call it even, yeah?"

The bang had definitely been audible, but the sound of the crowds outside had masked it for the most part. Anyone hearing it could've easily mistaken it for a dropped metallic object but I wanted out of this alleyway just in case. The teens were happy to throw down some coin pouches and vacate the local. I quickly housed my pistol and threw it into my backpack along with the four bags of coin from the teens. I grabbed the bag of coin from the dead gentleman along with his coat (might as well try and partially fit in right?) and stepped out of the alleyway into the street, jacket over my arm. With some application of my newfound wealth I found my way to an inn where I paid for a few nights stay and some good food. Now to plan…

**Notes**

That was a bit easier than expected to write. Please leave a review and let me know what you think…

Given that my only representation of common people from Braavos is Syrio Forel and his actor Miltos Yerolemou, I thought Spanish would be an appropriate stand in for the Braavosi tongue. If there is an actual language for the Free City let me know and I will endeavour to use it...

_Language notes:_

_Parlez-vous cotte langue, mon ami?_ – Do you speak this language, friend?

_Quid igitur est?_ – What about this one?

_Sprichst du Deutsch?_ – Do you speak German?

_Entregue su moneda, viajero y no se le hará dañ!_ – Hand over your coin, traveller and you will not be harmed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes**

I was not expecting such a response. Thanks to all those of you who have followed the story, I'll try to not let you down. But I have had a couple of questions about when I'll be updating this story. As to that, it'll quite possibly be irregular as this is my first longform story as opposed to flash fiction or short chaptered stories. But will try for at least once a week.

So bear with me, and I hope you enjoy…

**Braavos, 5****th**** Moon, 290 AC**

After the excitement of my first day in Braavos, my first night was rather tame. I was still without any idea of what to do with myself, but I'd managed to acquire some coin of a group of less than upstanding gentlemen. I'd also committed my first serious crime by shooting their leader as he tried to rob me at sword point.

I'd managed to make it to an inn and secured a room before the shock of what I'd done set in.

A man was dead at my hand. It was in self-defence, sure, but he was still dead. Dead. No longer living. Holy fuck. I didn't know what to do, cry or shake, so I split the difference and did both. I was a long couple of hours as I processed what I'd done. It was going to take a long time to fully process, but I managed to come to terms enough that I could function.

Taking a look at the jacket I acquired off the deceased gentleman, I realised it had been splattered with specks of blood from where I'd shot the man. The evidence had been hidden by the fact that I'd held it as a prop in the crook of my arm while I'd acquired a room. I was going to have to get rid of that, and also acquire some less conspicuous clothes. If the four other youths squealed I wasn't going to be hard to find. Using the excuse of being from down south was only going to last for so long.

Over dinner, I inquired about some places where I could acquire clothing under the pretence of having been robbed along the route to Braavos. I was given the number of a few tailors to try in the morning. After a few extra drinks to help my returning nerves on their way, I retired for the night.

The next day I headed out (sans jacket and gun) in search of a tailor that would take square iron coins that seemed to be the local currency for a basic outfit. In a manner of three hours, I'd acquired four linen shirts, three sets of britches, a cheap leather jacket, a couple of sets of boots, and a duffle bag to carry it all. It had cost me at least two-thirds of the coin I had but at least I didn't stand out any more.

After a bath (which ate further into the dwindling funds) and changing into a clean set of clothes, the markets were the next port of call. If I was going to survive her for the foreseeable future, then an income would be needed. And to that end I had an idea; all I needed was some ingredients and a visit to the offices of the Iron Bank. Talking to the innkeeper over lunch, mostly with him being peppered with questions, a lot was learned.

A discussion with the innkeeper had revealed that the Iron Bank wasn't as unapproachable an institution as the television series had made seem. They apparently had what equated to a business and personal loan division for lowborn people such as myself. It made a certain amount of sense really. Not every person was going to have the money for, say, a fishing vessel and related equipment up front. And it made sense for them to cater for the locals of Braavos as much as it was for them to deal with princes and kings. But since I wasn't planning on becoming a fisherman and not a member of the nobility, I was going to need a small sample of what I wished to produce to show off.

It took me the afternoon to acquire the necessary ingredients and equipment. By this point I was really going to need this to bring in the coinage as my money was swiftly disappearing. Thankfully the people who'd tried to rob me were either reasonably well or actually good at robbing people as I'd had enough to prepay a week's worth of board and food with the inn prior to all my shopping.

Feeling somewhat exhausted after pilling more walking onto of the walking I'd already done to get here, I went to bed. The next day saw me putting together a small barrel's worth of a special powder, or at least get the process started. To make as much as I was setting out for, it would take a few days but I had as reasonable amount of time. While I waited for things to dry out and settle, I got directions to the lowborn offices of the Iron Bank of Braavos and set about making an appointment to see one of their representatives in the 'next couple of days'.

Finishing the preparations for my special powder, mentally preparing myself to deal with official people and coming up with a name to call myself. Fitting in had been my primary goal so far and there was no need to go against that by waving the name Frederick Hawthorne like a giant neon light point me out as someone who doesn't belong. It had been thanks to large doses of luck so far that I'd gotten away with using 'Jon' so far whenever someone needed a first name.

So, it was with that in mind that I left the inn as myself and entered the Bank's offices as Bilbo Baggins of Tyrosh. And before you judge me for being completely unoriginal, Lord of the Rings didn't exactly exist here in either Westeros or Essos as far as anyone was aware so it was completely original. I would quite possibly regret it later, but right now it was the best I could do.

Talking to the man from the Bank was definitely interesting. The demonstration of black powder managed to illicit a rather satisfying, "by the gods," from the man. Especially as the only similar substance is Wildfire, which is a carefully hoarded secret. Luco Antaryon, the man's name, apparently needs to discuss the implications of what I showed him with his superiors before he secures an agreement. But he was nice enough to give me an advance of 200 denarii (the lural of denarius, apparently the Braavos had unintentionally copied the Roman naming system for currency), on the promise that I wait around in Braavos and not sure my discovery with anyone else. For that amount of money I was happy to agree to those terms.

Hopefully this was a good sign...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes**

Apparently inspiration just keeps on coming. Not sure how long this will keep up before I fall into some kind of rhythm, but enjoy 'em while they're coming…

**Bravos, 5****th**** Month, 290 AC**

When I received a message later that day, humbly requesting my presence back at the Iron Bank, I'd already purchased some loose parchment, ink and a quill. The quill was going to take some getting used too but I'd managed to sketch out a rudimentary grenade design after a couple of tries. They weren't great but would do with the current level of technology. Besides, I'm sure some of the functionaries at the Bank were already seeing the Braavosi version of dollar signs, given the uses that black powder could be put to – war, mining, construction to name a few.

Hopefully I could negotiate a deal that would see a portion of that money. It'd also hopefully open them up to a couple of other ideas I had. Being a chemist with an idea of how history played out might just prove to be useful for the first time in my life. Now all I have to do is to live to see it and hopefully not fuck it up. If only I could remember the words to any of Shakespeare's plays I could make a few extra coin's there too, but them's the breaks. Besides, it was probably better to stick to what I knew best and leave writing plays to the playwrights of the world.

Anyway, off the topic I am getting, as Yoda would be want to say. I hadn't gone too far from where I'd had my meeting originally, having found myself a good in to feast, drink and draw in after acquiring my drawing supplies. The new gentleman was certainly a look older than the first, and had the wrinkles of one used to making the hard choices. Certainly hope to not acquire that kind of wrinkles but I wouldn't argue with having that amount of hair at that age.

To keep a long, boring and technical conversation short (and actually short this time unlike previous efforts), I'd sparked a little bit of worry. Given black powder's explosive nature and the reputation of the Alchemists Guild over in Westeros, the bankers were wanting to make sure I wasn't stepping on the feet of prior agreements. With as much assurance as I could muster, mostly a complete lack of knowledge as to how the Guild operated, they asked me about how the powder was created and its potential. I kept mum on the creation, until a contract was signed, sealed and delivered, but was happy to discuss potential and even showed off the basic designs for a proto!grenade. A deal was struck and I was soon the proud owner of 30 percent of all proceeds from any and all sales of 'Baggin's Black Powder', and an extra 500 denarii for my trouble.

The money was definitely going to take a while to pour in, but I had enough money to start making some headway on some other projects. But more importantly I had a relationship with the Iron Bank of Braavos that I could leverage for loans, resources and the like for whatever plans I could develop down the track.

Two things danced their way through my thoughts as I headed home. I'd managed to secure 600 denarii (less what I'd paid for the writing gear and food), and a potential income but it wouldn't last. The former would undoubtedly go quick to day-to-day expenses or reinventing the wheel so-to-speak and the latter would take a while to kick in. The Bank had the recipe, but would take a while to develop stock and find customers. What I needed was a steady source of income _now_. Which meant finding gainful employment. That wouldn't be easy for a man with no connections outside a couple of Iron Bank employees, an innkeeper and the less-than-reliable inn patrons.

Bringing up thoughts of the inn got me thinking about getting an actual place to stay. The inn was nice, but the costs were going to add up in a hurry. It had cost a decent chunk of the money I'd… liberated on my first day in the big city. I'd gotten lucky and hoped to never be in that kind of situation ever again – which brought up another expense to add to the list. Sword training. I've been lucky so far in that the gang of teens haven't sought me out yet to get their revenge or reported me to the authorities (whatever form they happened to take here). I could find a way to carry the air pistol with me without it being obvious, that was just trouble waiting to happen. Wielding a sword, while not preferred, would be beneficial.

There were plenty of people around about carrying what appeared to be fencing swords. Or near enough too. Historical weapons hadn't exactly been my specialty at Uni during the History portion of my degree.

Still. One problem at a time. It would probably do to find a place first and go from there. A couple of rooms would do for the moment, given I don't have much. Now vaguely familiar with some of the surrounding streets I began slowly to look for signs of vacant places to rent, and came up royally empty. Turns out that without the internet or something resembling a local newspaper, looking for a place to rent was nigh impossible. Sigh.

Returning to the inn, I began to inquire with some of the regulars as to a place to rent. This too brought up nothing. Bugger.

The next few days brought nothing but a singular lack of progress. It was starting to get frustrating, really. You'd think that finding a place to rent in a city like Braavos would be a synch, but apparently no so much. My luck should hopefully change soon…

**Braavos, 6****th**** Month, 290 AC**

It took a month. A whole fucking month. I'd started doing odd jobs here and there for some of the regulars at the inn to help pass the time, and to make some connections. It was mostly reading and writing letters for less-than-literate, delivering messages and the occasional dock work. Still, a lead was netted in the form of a name and an address – M. Hyson, Last House on the left, Baker-on-Tunesse Way. The street names were still a thing I was getting too, but hey, who am I to judge?

Still, it's a place to stay that isn't the cramp quarters of the inn. The rent is cheap (I think? It's hard to judge) at fifteen denarii a week and it pays for a couple of comfortable bed-rooms and a single large airy sitting-room, furnished, and illuminated by two broad windows. I also get two meals a day (breakfast and dinner) which is a bonus, but I'm going to need a job or I'll be on my ass in the same amount of time it took me to find the place.

The funds I secured from the Iron Bank for the Black Powder is running low and the odd jobs don't do more than cover the _bare_ necessities. Emphasis on _bare_. I've been skipping lunch these last few days in an effort to cut costs, but now that I have a place to live I can set about finding regular work.

It isn't helping that the boots I acquired are beginning to fall apart. Apparently you get what you paid for and I paid for a pair of cheap boots. One lives and learns. Can't life's problems just leave me alone for five minutes so I can deal with one problem at a time?

Still…


	4. Chapter 4

**Braavos – 7****th**** Month, 290 AC**

So, after all that build up about needing a job, narratively speaking the first of my black powder checks and I'd spend a short period of time going on about how much of an anticlimactic the situation was. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Unfortunately life doesn't always work like that, and I found myself employed as a night watchman at a cemetery.

Which means that I'm working the graveyard shift in a graveyard.

Laugh it up, I know I did when I realised what I'd gotten myself into. Thankfully I did it away from the lovely geriatric who gave me the job as I don't think I could adequately explain what a work shift was. Or any of the other contexts that might arrive from cultural differences. Plus, even in a universe such as this, I'm sure telling terrible puns during a job interview is heavily frowned upon.

Still. I have my own lantern now and it is proudly sitting on a stool near the door, along with a uniform that's hanging in my closet. I work four days out of every six, which'll be interesting.

But, to be fair, I was pleasantly surprised to hear that a place like Braavos had graveyards. I always thought they burned them on pyres like in Westeros or sent them out to sea. Maybe they need to be sailors or something to get that latter honour? Regardless, according to my new boss, there are a tonne of old graveyards all over the city if one knows where to look.

It's safe to say that this place is going to be a great source of aliases in the future if I ever need them.

Since getting the job, still using the Bilbo Baggins alias, I've struck up a routine. There's this lemon tree that rises about the houseline on the way to work, just round the corner really, that'll climb up and watch the beginnings of sunset on. It's a beautiful sight really.

Occasionally I'll watch the sunset with this eight-year old girl. From what she's said she's not supposed to be out and about 'cause she's 'special' but she likes to hang out by the lemon tree. Her pale skin and silverish-gold hair is kinda familiar, but I really can't place it right now. Is she a Game of Thrones character?

In fairness, having only seen the show a couple of times, I'm not up on the timelines and who was where and when. She could be someone important. Or she could've been one of the extras. Fuck knows at this point, really. And I'm not really wanting to get in on any of the Iron Throne bullshit. Still, she made for a great temporary companion and was very receptive to the fairy tales I quote unquote '_invented on the fly_'. She was very receptive to most of the princess stories, obviously, especially the ones that ended up with princes. Which was practically all the ones that I knew.

Regardless, now that I have a steady income and plenty of time and space to myself (the benefits of having an apartment), I'm able to start planning my next project. The idea of the printing press is a simple-ish one, kinda. I did a 1,500 word essay on it for a history paper and its influence on history. Jamie would also extoll its invention on more than one occasion when he waxed philosophical on his inspirations for getting into inventing.

Why not channel his positivity and influence the world. Just think what printing presses could do? Books, plays, charts, posters, or even mass proclamations – and I could make a dime (or denarii) off them all. Hell, I could invent the penny dreadful as a genre if I wanted too. The market for cheap books would be great.

I just had to work out how to invent it is all. I remembered the basic design from the work I'd done for the assignment, but putting that onto paper was a challenge. After years of dealing with Jamie, you'd like that I'd have a head for designing things on paper, but apparently it's not a skill one can learn by osmosis. Given how big the machine turned out (the Earth one's were large as heck when they were first made) there was also the problem of maybe going into debt with the Bank. I hated owing people money, but it may need to be done.

Still, I could always off a percentage of the proceeds like I did with the black powder…

**Braavos – 8****th**** Month, 290 AC**

Well, it's been a month of interesting news to be sure.

First up, I managed to get a design down for the printing press. I had to consult with a couple of carpenters, blacksmiths and artisans, but I managed to get it done. I also have cost estimates and it turns out I was right, I am going to need a loan from the Bank to be able to construct it. Also going to need to purchase a place to put the damn thing, 'cause it's certainly going to fit in my apartment.

Second up, I got my first payment for the black powder this month. It was about 1,500 denarii. Which is a rather nice sum and got me wondering just who was buying the power. But I'd signed away my right to ask that question when I signed the agreement with the Bank. And besides with that kind of money I would be able to make a serious start on the printing press.

I was able to use the money from the Bank to leverage a number of small loans from various moneylenders around the city. Because, as it turns out, there were still plenty of those around. They just weren't as well known, or as well respected, as the Iron Bank. My desire to keep in good with them sent me to the moneylenders. I also didn't want to get on the wrong side of their infamous reputation. Better the leg breakers of a minor moneylender then the life ruining men of the Bank.

Regardless, it didn't take me long to have enough to rent out a small store near the cartographers and book sellers. I left the building unnamed and as unobtrusive as I could while I began preparations. It would take a few weeks to see the printing press assembled and tested. It would chew through my capital and the loan repayments would chew through my wages, as would the rent on the store. It at least had an option to buy the store when I raised a sufficient amount of money.

My relationship with the eight-year old child I'd come to associate with around the lemon tree has continued. A fourteen-year-old boy would occasionally join us to listen to the stories I shared and scoff at the questions his sister asked. There's an arrogance to him that is hitting my memories like a ton of bricks. Were these the Targaryen children?

If they were, it was before Viserys got himself declared the Begger King for his attempts to put together an army to take back the Iron Throne. Not that I blamed him for trying, but he could've done with learning not to be such a pain in the ass and looking a gift horse (or a pissed off Dothraki chieftain) in the mouth. The only reason I had to think that this was well before then was the fact that they didn't look like they had that look of desperation and actually looked unabashedly happy.

Well, at least Daenerys was. Viserys spent most've his time around me either eyeing me suspiciously, insulting the stories I told or trying to talk his sister into not listening to the '_idiotic gravedigger and his pitiful stories_.'

Definitely could've done with a slap in the fact, but there'd be time for that later if history served. Or laughing at the memory of his death. Right now I'm happy to simply influence them however I can and share my stories. But that's not him right now, so eh. We'll see how this goes.

**Braavos – 9****th**** Month, 290 AC**

My newly established publishing empire is a go-go.

Construction and testing of the printing press took three weeks and some elbow grease. Turns out offering double wages for quick completion is a definite motivator. Once it was sorted, I brought in a couple of cartographers (independent of each other) and made deals with them all about making quick copies of all their maps. The fact that they could sell the maps on the cheap, which meant more sales, which meant more money, was all that it took for them to sign on.

That meant hiring on a couple of guys to man the store. Three guys were hired to man the press, a lovely looking lass to handle the front of house (exploiting sexism for the win), and a clerk to handle the paperwork and bookkeeping for the endeavour. The moneylenders were definitely going to want their coin and my current paycheque was barely covering the first payments. The sooner the map printing could cover all of that and paying my newfound workers before making something of a profit. The sooner I can give up the high life of a graveyard guard (it rhymes, haha) the better.

Just need to start working on bringing the bookmakers into the fold and I'm away laughing.

Before I had a chance to sit back and start enjoying the fruits of my so-called labour, Hyson showed in the bent form of a man who was introduced as Hallyne the Pyromancer who made no bones about accusing me of stealing the secrets of the Alchemists Guild. "To creaste Wildfire of your own, no doubt!" He croaked, jabbing a finger at me.

No matter my objections, or the interruption of my landlady with tea, Hallyn's tirade kept coming. Mostly about theft and stealing the secrets of 'The Subtance'.

"Tell me, has anyone actually made any use of or put an order in for Wildfire in generations?"

That caused a pause or three, before he blistered out the answer of, "That's beside the point.

"It's exactly the fuckin' point," I offered with a glare. But having him here was definitely giving me an idea. "My black powder doesn't hold a candle to the power of wildfire. But it's also much more stable and easier to control and store."

That didn't mean I didn't want to get my dirty little hands on a batch or three of the stuff. The ability to see just how close it was to Greek fire would be interesting in and of itself.

"Further, if you're not making the Substance then what the hell is the Guild doing with itself? I doubt the Grand Maseter himself would just be able to drop everything to cross the sea just to waggle his finger at some merchant. Even if he was fuckin' with Maester secrets." At that I put up my hands as to placate Hallyne. "Not to insult yourself or your Guild."

"You're not?" He asked dryly as he took the irony of the situation.

"No," I replied. "But I do have some things I wish to show you..."

Standing from the seats we'd been using, tea all but forgotten, I showed him to the spare bedroom. I'd been using it as a de facto office since I had no flatmate. I collected my notes and diagrams on both penicillin and iodine and presented them to the guildmaster.

"Back in my homeland, an acquaintance of mine had participated in some... experiments with these two substances. They both hold great potential for the healing of cuts and injuries, fighting infection and a number of other uses. Unfortunately he died due to an argument with a moneylender and I was forced to leave town with only my clothes and a few coins. However, I have spent some time trying to recreate his experiments but to no avail."

Hallyne took in my story and the notes I had made. There was some truth in what I was saying. My major problem was that I was unsure of the status of similar medical research both here in Essos and in Westeros. I needed someone with that particular branch of knowledge and the smarts to finish the research and develop a solution that would work in this universe.

If successful, I would have another stream of income to add to the black powder and the printing press.

"I can see what your friend was working," commented Hallyne as he finished reading the notes. "And his theories are sound, but it would take some work to develop both formulas."

"Fair enough," I conceded. "But if successfully developed they would both be in immense demand. Both in war and in peace."

"Quite so," he acknowledged.

It was then I knew I had him. "And if developed, every single bottle or package would have your name and the crest of the Alchemist's Guild upon it."

It didn't take long to get a form deal inked and I was suddenly involved in a third venture...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes**

I'd like to welcome aboard the new followers and favouriters. I hope this story continues to live up to your expectations. I'd like to also thank those who are leaving reviews, I do read them when my own self-doubts allow.

_ JustAnotherFan217_ – You're not wrong, especially as that story served as inspiration for this one. As for the idea, it's definitely something I'll consider going forward.

_ Guest_ – It's true that a student would. Unfortunately, I am not such a student. It's also a different world with a different system of reports and the like, also a different world. I'm not sure how Westeros correlates to Earth, but I'm assuming there are at least some changes in plant evolution that he wouldn't know about and is happy to leave to Westerosi professionals to figure out so long as the result is coin in his pocket.

**Braavos – 10****th**** Month, 290 AC**

It has been three weeks since I opened my printing shop, and I appear to be well on my way to paying off the moneylenders I borrowed from. I may even be able to construct a second printing press by the end of the year. Maybe with a focus on books? I have been writing down as many fairy tales as I can remember in what little free time is left to me these days.

It has been a similar amount of time since I made the deal with Hallyne. With what little profits I'd been receiving from the printing business I'd found him a space to work and his research has borne fruit on the iodine front. Apparently the seaweed from around Braavos is the way to go there. That may require talking to the Iron Bank again, which is something I'm not against.

The old man has also brought over a couple of his Guild members to assist him with this, and possibly take over the research so that he can return to Westeros. This concerns me greatly and has forced me to talk to the Bank sooner rather than later as I want to protect my ideas as much as I can. There isn't any copyright or patent law in these lands, and the Bank seems like the best way to keep the money coming into my coffers then the Alchemists Guild over the Narrow Sea…

**Braavos – 10****th**** Month, 290 AC**

It was a rather successful meeting with the Bank. It took most of a day and almost made me late for work, but it was worth it.

Taking Hallyne along I managed to secure a distribution deal for iodine or 'Mudder's Milk' as I took to calling it. Again, the Bank will act as distribution for a 20% cut, while the remaining profits will be split between myself and the old man. Minus the shared expenses involved for the creation of the Milk, because Hallyne is paranoid about the formula getting out. A line of credit was established as part of the deal so that permanent facilities could be purchased and employees hired. Or more likely transported from Westeros as I believe my new business partner wouldn't trust anyone else to work with him.

So long as I receive a healthy chunk of money each month, and didn't get screwed over, I didn't particularly care who he hired. Hopefully the threat of the Bank would deter any mutual screwing. Especially as his research into concoctions beyond what I'd given him got started. I had ideas. Greek fire ideas…

Once my mutual business with Hallyne was done, I had a further discussion with the Bank about the printing press and its future. Showing the representative the books and explaining what I was doing, I had to do another series of waiting. This was starting to be a habit, especially as the same elderly man entered. My greeting was polite and my tone respectful as I explained my situation for the second time.

Where my goal had been to use the Bank to facilitate the sale of a printing press to the Maester's of Westeros for as hefty fee as they could manage. Instead I also received a request from the elder representative of the Bank to purchase a printing press for themselves. With a confidence I didn't feel, I cited a price near what I was considering selling to the Maester's for – 7,000 denarii.

It cost about half that to construct a printing press, but the Bank didn't need to know that as they negotiated me down to 6,000 denarii. It was an interesting few hours (including for price) of negotiating for payment, delivery and setting up of the printing press before I needed to get to work. A time was set for one of my next days off so that I could discuss the original plan I had to sell the press to the Maester's.

**Braavos – 11****th**** Month, 290 AC**

The Mudder's Milk business is slowly growing. Demand is requiring the hiring of a number of ships and fisherman to acquire seaweed and the like and the bringing over of more members of the Alchemists Guild. At this rate Hallyne may as well just bring over the Guild's supplies and build a new Guild tower here in Braavos. Leave the Seven Kingdom's to the Maester's.

Have also discussed Greek fire with Hallyne and he seems greatly interested in a slightly less fragile version of the Substance. I'd still be keen to see the recipe of the Substance, but as I have no desire to put myself at the discretion of the Guild, I don't see that happening.

My printing house – which I have yet to name – is going full gangbusters. I have left instructions for an extra copy of everything they print so that I may establish a collection. Maybe even a library. The bookmakers have brought into the fold in terms of printing; especially I have constructed a second printing press for my company's use. The press ordered by the Bank has also been constructed, and its location known only to myself and those trusted by the Bank's upper management. What they wish to use it for I do not know, but I also do not care.

The Targaryen's appear to have disappeared, which is unfortunate as I enjoyed their company. Or rather Dany's company, her brother I could take or leave. I may keep an ear out for them. Depending on the situation, it may be profitable to establish a relationship with them in the future. But that will depend on if they follow the books or the television show. I'm aware that the latter books are vastly different from the show and that they condensed a few characters from the get-go.

In all fairness, I'm glad I ended up over here in Braavos as opposed to somewhere in Westeros as I've never been much of a fighter. Even with enough training, I doubt I'll ever have the killer instinct. Not that it'll stop me from hiring some armed bastards of course. Or stop me from getting training, which now that I remember, is on my to-do list. Sigh. Life has kept me busy.

**Braavos – 1****st**** Month, 291 AC**

It has been a while.

Life has been busy these last few months that I have barely been able to sit down and have a moment's thought to myself. With a sufficient income to support, I have since retired from the night guard business, which is news of sufficient beginning.

Hallyne has taken charge of the production of mudder's milk. He tells me that he is currently subsidising his Guild members with local workers for the administration of things. Having received a reasonable sum this last week from this endeavour, I'm just happy it's working.

My main focus these past few months has been with the publishing house. I spent a decent portion of time pursing the maps that my employees have been copying at my request. The diversity of places outside of Essos Westeros is fucking amazing. The Summer Islands. Sarnor. Ibben. All places of potential trade once I know what to buy, sell, and barter in these ports. And once I acquire adequate resources for ships and crews. This may be a long term project, once I have a solid base of income here in Braavos.

All going well, I could establish this world's version of the East India Trading Company.

The Iron Bank is in negotiations with the Maester's on my behalf in regards to selling them a printing press. They started with offering printing services, but they are rather secretive about the knowledge they possess and don't appear to like sharing with others. Annoying but understandable.

I was going to extort the hell out of them with printing press fees, but now I'll be extorting them with price. And the knowledge that I won't be sharing how the press is made. They'll figure it out I'm sure, but for the moment they're not the smartest men in the room and that amuses me.

**Braavos – 2****nd**** Month, 291 AC**

I may have accidentally invested bare-knuckles boxing.

While attending a sword fighting meet a month or so back, I inquired as to other forms of organised fighting and found that since there wasn't exactly space for jousting that there really wasn't any. So, amidst all the other chaos, or perceived chaos, I set about putting together a bare knuckles event.

It didn't take too long either. Apparently, like everything else in Braavos, all you need to do is wave money under people's noses. I rented a duelling arena, pay some fees to the officials for a license to put on a 'public event', and found some strapping lads who'd be keen to punch the snot out of each other for money.

I discussed terms with some bookies to get them in on the action and set an advertising machine in motion. All of which took about two weeks and I had the event running. The event was last night and apparently a horrendous success. As it turns out the citizens of Braavos are just as blood thirsty as those from the Seven Kingdoms when you give them a chance. Between the gate fees and my percentages from the bookies and the site's alcohol sales, I made out like a bandit, even as I paid out the winners and losers purses. I am currently in the process of setting a friendly but merciless gentleman to manage the fights going forward.

Even before I look to expand seaward, I'm developing quite the lovely set of revenue streams. Perhaps I should consider what else to go into. I'm already wondering if I should get into investing in book writers and the like.

Thoughts for the future are about indeed…


	6. Chapter 6

_ darkstel_ – Thank you for the kind words and though there may be romance at some point in the future, I do not intend it to be the focus of the story.

_ jacktank10_ – Believe me, that's something I'm planning eventually. It'll be interesting, I'm sure…

**Braavos – 3****rd**** Month, 291 AC**

With my newfound bare-knuckle fighting enterprise I am beginning to develop a series of secure investments. A settlement with the Maester's has officially been reached and I received a rather hefty sum of coin for the construction and transportation of a printing press to their Citadel in Oldtown. Even minus the Bank's percentage and the expenses, it's enough to invest in a new venture or two.

I just wish I knew what exactly to invest in. While I was enthusiastic about establishing an East India Company style conglomerate, I have no idea how exactly to go about that. I'm a chemist, not a businessman. The businesses and ideas I've come up with so far have all been based off easy to produce chemical compounds, stuff I picked up from hanging around Jamie or pure luck. The fact that I'm developing a relatively large staff that depends on me for their livelihoods has me scared. I don't want to screw up and have their jobs put at risk.

I'm not sure how long any of my income streams will remain profitable. It might just be simple doubt or paranoia creeping into my thoughts, but I am left wondering how long it will be until the secrets I have leaked out into this world are no longer mine. When will the Alchemists betray me? When will someone develop the printing press? Who knows?

As a pleasant distraction from worries, Mrs Hyson has apparently been getting inquires as to my providence. Apparently my success has a few fellow rich-types interested in where I'm from so that more about me can be ascertained. She has apparently been spinning some rather tall tales too whoever has come around and gotten paid rather handsomely for it. Will be interesting to see what sticks to the proverbial wall and what falls in that respect.

It also shows an unexpected loyalty from a quarter I didn't expect. I have been lodger here for a reasonable period, but haven't had many conversations with my landlady outside of discussions about our respective days, the weather and other niceties. For a Braavosi citizen to show such loyalty to a man who pays her what many would consider a poultry sum in rent is amazing. I must certainly reassess my thoughts on the people of this fair city if Hyson's reaction is common place.

**Braavos – 4****th**** Month, 291 AC**

It is interesting to me that where I used to make these entries on a daily or weekly basis that I find myself only finding the time to do so monthly. It is both satisfying and saddening. Satisfying in that it shows that I have managed to integrate myself into this world and am doing enough to keep myself busy; saddening in the fact that I do occasionally feel like I'm letting down an old friend.

I have started to look for ways to continue increasing my income with what industries I have at my disposal in an effort to stymie my earlier paranoia about losing out. I have taken to acquiring the services of poets and playwrights to engage in collecting their works and publishing them for the public at large to read. I have been given to understand that they aren't traditionally well disbursed and it might be somewhat profitable to spread them far and wide. With a copy or two kept for myself, of course.

With the amount of books, maps and the like I have collected thus far, I have found myself needing a place to store them. Previously I have been storing them either in my printing house or the spare room of my rooms at Hyson's, but both places are becoming over cluttered. I was almost tempted to use them to establish a public library of some sort, but decided against it for the time being. It would probably earn me some ill will from the bookmakers as I may not have been telling them about the extra printing I've been of their books.

Instead, I went with establishing my own Library of Alexandra. Using some of the funds from the sale of the printing press I purchased a large building, began the refurbishing thereof and the commissioning of some book shelves. The idea is to house all the books, maps and what have you I've been printing, along with purchasing as many books from across Essos Westeros and beyond as I can to collate them all. It might never be as big as the collection in the Citadel, but I do plan on opening it up to the public one day. Once I get round to mentioning what I've done to the bookmakers and the like and striking a deal. Having such a library would undoubtedly be a boon for the city and to the world.

**Braavos – 5****th**** Month, 291 AC**

I have sent out my first official merchant ship today.

From what I've been lead to understand, Braavos has done a reasonable amount of trade with a nation called Ibben. Not entirely sure of what to trade, I loaded a number of maps, books and other texts on the boat and sent along a merchant who'd been to the country before to see what I could get. With printing becoming more and more common by the day and my printers churning out books by the dozen, it could be a good trade commodity. At least until I figure out what else I could trade.

Who knows, it may be the first step on establishing the Essos International Trading Company (if I were to steal the East India Trading Company's initials). I'm still wondering if I want to start a company at all, as many people just seem to be trading off their names. With the Iron Bank being one of the few exceptions to that particular rule.

Taking a page from the book of the Master of Whispers, Varys, and have begun to acquire the services of the homeless population as spies and lookouts. I am as yet unsure what to do with any of the information they'd bring me or how to process it. But it is something of a good cover story for me to use while I feed the poor and provide them with the odd coin. I am doing so through a couple of bakeries I acquired with the proceeds of the printing press sale. Especially as I've had a quiet word with a couple of the bakers and am currently in the process of inventing muffins.

God, to have chocolate chip muffins again would be a heaven send.

Regardless, if nothing else, having the bakeries will be another regular stream of income. I am also in talks with some of my newfound bakers as to what could be done about creating sandwiches as well. I'm not sure if introducing muffins or sandwiches will work, but we can but find out.

It's sad that charity seems out of place, and out of character, even here in Braavos, but I'll happily do what I can. And who knows, there might even be a tax write-off in there somewhere.

I have finally gotten around to taking sword lessons. After worrying so much in the beginning about being attacked, and not, I had completely forgotten about wanting lessons. As I slowly delegate or employ people to undertake the day-to-day management of things, I have found myself with periods of time during the day with which to do things. Like learn how to successfully defend myself in a duel. The process is going to be a slow one, I fear, as I am proving not to be as dexterous as originally thought. But I am reasonably fit, which is something to be thankful for as I am put through my paces.

It may be a while before I am a successful water dancer, but with time. With time…


	7. Chapter 7

**Note(s)**

Apologies for the long wait, ladies and gentlemen. Life has been keeping me busy and left little time for the writing of words, but here is a new chapter for y'all. Enjoy…

**Braavos – 6****th**** Month, 291 AC**

Well, it would appear that my actions haven't been happening as much in a vacuum as I thought. The lofty lords of the Seven Kingdoms have slowly begun to take notice of what's happening over here in Braavos. Or at least one of them has at any rate.

Agents of a rotund gentleman claiming to be a merchant by the name of Jon Ornithos have apparently been asking around the Iron Bank about me of late. Or at least about the inventor of the black powder. The Bank gets more than its fair share of people asking about their clients and they tend to take a dim view on the subject. Privacy is their watch word when it comes to the deals they make, and they have done a great job of keeping my name out of things.

But whoever this Ornithos is, he's not stupid either apparently. He's been apparently looking around and trying to follow the trails of money around the city. Who's doing what and how it's connected. Or so my burgeoning intelligence network is telling me. I don't have much in the details yet, but someone is definitely interested.

I'm going to have to keep my eyes peeled and ears to the ground, but at this point I'm assuming that I've peaked either Varys' or Littlefinger's interest with my activities. Annoying, to be sure, but not entirely unexpected. Just thought I had a bit longer before I came up on their radar.

In other news, my first attempts at sea-based mercantilism worked out, and the ship I chartered to go up to Ibben returned with a healthy supply of oil. The books and other items I sent were exchanged at a great rate for the oil, and I may have found a reasonable trade there. Engaging a few merchants here, I managed to sell the oil for quite the chunk of change. According to the Captain of the ship I chartered that there was definitely a market.

Given that it might be somewhat profitable as a venture, I acquired a small ship and appropriately sized crew. I knew there were plenty of ships who probably made the trip to and back from Ibben, but it was a start. And I was paying practically nothing as I ordered my printers to started churning out the copies of books we had in stock. If I could make a profit on both ends of the trip that would quite possibly get me a leg up on the competitors.

Who knows, I could possibly even negotiate a few exclusive contracts with some of the wale oil traders and work out from there.

**Braavos – 6****th**** Month, 291 AC**

I had a discussion with the Bank about this Jon Ornithos character. It was a case of Varys being sloppy (which I doubted), Varys being deliberate and/or sending me a message, or Littlefinger acting through someone in such a way as to make people think it was Varys. It'd been happening for a couple of weeks now, and I was getting curious.

I ended up organising with the Bank to '_let it slip_' just who the genius behind the black powder was to this Ornithos fellow and see what he did. I could do with a few allies in this world outside of the Bank, the Alchemists Guild and my employees. And maybe the ship captain, who'd made out like a bandit with his share of the proceeds from my latest business venture. I'm thinking of starting my trade empire out based on books and the like. The chain of islands down south may be problematic, as they're not apparently claimed by anyone cohesive. Could be an opportunity there for a bit of cash maybe? Hire a sellship company or two and take the place over maybe? Charging people to go safe through could always be a nice way to raise some cash or even get myself declared a Lord or something.

Something to consider at least. Money and power being the game and all that.

**Braavos – 7****th**** Month, 291 AC**

No bites from Ornithos so far.

I think whoever it was overestimated my relationship with the bank and may have slunk back into the shadows. Unfortunate, but nevertheless to be expected. It does, however, put a few points into the Varys column as I'm sure Littlefinger may have sent greetings of some description. Or they could be trying a new approach since this one put them out into the open.

Adding to this was the fact that some of my old acquaintances have had the odd person asking about myself. This is getting interesting. Why people can't just be direct in these situations I don't know, but it appears I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Just to be kind of an ass, and maybe overplaying my hand a little, I sent messages to both Varys and Littlefinger. The message to Varys read '_Send my greetings to Daenerys wherever she is. Tell her the man from the courtyard misses her and has more stories to tell._'

The message to Littlefinger read, '_From a Braavosi to one twice removed, beware the game of thrones that you play. Tully's never forgive, nor do the Stark's forget._'

How well those messages go down is anyone's guess, but I wish I could be a fly on the wall when they read them. Whether it'll have any effect on what goes down is anyone's guess, but I may have just announced that there's another player on the board. Who knows what kind of influence I'll have, if any. If I do rise myself to a self-proclaimed Lordship, I may become so.

**Braavos – 7****th**** Month, 291 AC**

After that momentary flash wallowing in my own self-importance for having watched a television show, I find myself no more entertained then I have been. Nothing overt has come in the aftermath of my messages. They may still be winding their way to the Crownlands. Or both men are playing the long game and waiting to see how I move.

At least one of them is wondering who is out there and what they know. What _I_ know.

It makes me wonder, not for the first time, if I should write down what I remember of the show. Make myself out to be some kind of seer on top of everything else.

Of course everything's at least a few years off at this point. I'm not one hundred percent sure how old Danny is when the events of the first episode are. Late teens I think? Not that I was sure how old she was when I met her near the tree low those many months ago.

Still. It could be amusing. Get the predictions out there and see what happens. Really make Varys freak the hell out about what I know. Or the Red Witch. Malisadrow? Maliceandrew? Something like that, I think. Whatever. I don't even need to burn someone. Just have spent way too much time obsessing over a television show with a few dozen million people.

If I knew I'd be coming here, I would've paid more attention to the finer details. Instead, I got far too obsessed with… other things.

Ah, well. Too late now. I'll just have to go off what I remember and pray to whichever set of gods'll listen that I get through this alive. If I'm lucky, I might even meet up with a main character or two…


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes**

sandmanwake – Possibly, it could also be a reference to Varys and his "little birds." But I digress.

Guest – Thanks for the grammatical correction.

Apologies for the break in posts – life has decided to get busy for me of late and has left little time to write…

**Braavos – 8****th**** Month, 291 AC**

Still nothing on the mysterious man from the Seven Kingdoms front. After the scare of finding out that I may have heard of his questioning, the man's either stopped or taking a far more subtle approach. Which I don't blame in the slightest. But I will have to keep my ears to the ground on that one.

I don't exactly want to have to worry about assassins or the like if either Varys or Littlefinger find my undertakings to not be to their likings. Especially as I like living and have become somewhat comfortable here.

Sure, I miss TV and would love to know how some of my favourite shows finish. I'll also miss not seeing the Final Fantasy Seven remake and how that pans out. But I'm also enjoying my time here in Braavos. It's near enough to home to feel familiar but foreign enough to be interesting. I'm constantly finding new things to explore.

Heck, there's actually an art museum here and I've acquired a couple of pieces for my apartment. They're a little garish by Earth standards but they amuse me somewhat. And they're apparently rather fancy by Braavosi standards. Yet another minor cultural difference, I guess.

Regardless, enough about my sentimentalities for the moment – my books for trade goods trade has expanded to include some of the other trade goods. Apparently there is a small cartel here in Braavos that seems to like extorting non-Westerosiian's (not sure if that's the correct term) out of their gold for silks and the like. So, after acquiring a couple of small stores that produce the stuff I have started to undercut the cartel while still making a decent profit.

I have employed a couple of clerks to investigate what other areas I could expand into.

Also, the Iron Bank has had a couple of requests from elsewhere in regards to my printing presses. Apparently the sale of one to the Maester's didn't go unnoticed and there have been requests. It's something to consider. Do I want to start the printing industry or keep the monopoly to myself?

So many tough decisions. Makes me wish I'd taken some business courses at Uni so that I could actually make some informed decisions instead of my current method of informed guessing.

**Braavos – 9****th**** Month, 291 AC**

No news on the Westerosi front, though I have had varying reports on two strangers who have arrived in Braaavosi independently of each other. The only reason I bring this up is due to their similarities to the two previously mentioned gentlemen.

But enough about that old business, and onto what they got me thinking about.

I have no hope of matching wits with either of those gentlemen. I just don't have the mind-set to play three dimensional chess with either of them and come out on top. Hell, I'm barely keeping my head above water in the world of business here in Braavos. Its pure luck and innovation that I've made it this far.

Hallyne and his Guild seems to be ready to stab me in the back, regardless of the successes he's had while working with me. The Iron Bank is happy I'm making them money, but have to be concerned. The Magister's have to be worried about an unknown quantity suddenly making money hand over fist.

And with two powerful Westerosi officials taking an interest, I don't know what to do.

I could just outright hire some sellswords and have them assassinated or send someone from the Alchemists Guild to poison them. But that could have unintentional consequences. Especially given the effect that Baelish and Varys have on future events.

I missed out on influencing how Danny's future would go, and maybe doing something positive there, which is unfortunate.

At this point, I just want to keep looking into my delusions of starting some kind of East India Trading Company style organisation. So far, all I have is a vague stranglehold on the bookmaking industry that can't last forever.

The Iron Bank seems intent on lending a hand there, so long as it remains profitable. I'm tempted to sell part of the rights to the printing press to them and letting them go to town. As it stands, I'm considering starting production on a number of presses and then offering them to the Bank for sale.

If I do want to get into the political game, there is apparently some disputed land down south that a number of the Free Cities have been trying to claim for generations. If I acquired the services of a number of large sellsword companies, I could send them a conquering.

With a sufficient amount of territory secured and held, it wouldn't be too hard to declare myself a Lord and acquire some official political clout. Though, it might also require me to up my lacking political skills.

Or, if I wanted to screw Danny over in the future, I could just buy as many Unsullied soldiers as I could as throw them at the same problem. Or send them up to assist the Night's Watch. Do them a serious favour in the manpower department.

Could also blackmail Ned Stark into not becoming the Hand of the King but threatening to tell Robert of Jon Snow's true parentage. Not that I'm sure if Robert would believe some random merchant from Braavosi with a name like Bilbo Baggins of course. But for someone like Ned, such threats might work. Hell, I could probably just threaten to tell his wife and he might stand down.

Even though he'd probably hate my ass for it. Which I could live with if it meant his being where he truly needed to be and nowhere near the capital.

Would be hilarious if I sent Syrio with the note. Not that Ayra would be old enough to take advantage of the swordsman's tutelage or think of asking for it.

Still. Many things to consider. Especially as I consider expanding into the brewery game…


	9. Chapter 9

**Braavos – 9****th**** Month, 291 AC**

With thoughts of governance and war on the mind, it would appear that I had forgotten to mention my status as a man about town and what I have been up too. I have been spending these last few months attending social gatherings and events amongst what appear to be some of the elite of Braavosi society.

As it turns out, the name Bilbo Baggins has got more than a few tongues waggling throughout the city and it is not just the spies of Small Council of Westeros that have been taking an interest. I have been getting more than a few wary side eyes from those wealthy individuals who appear to think I am after their power. It really hadn't occurred to me, in all fairness, as I started out just trying to eke out a living and accidentally invented/introduced a few new things to the city and beyond.

There've also been a few snide comments sent my way as newfound prevalence of books has resulted in a spike of literacy amongst the lower classes. Here's hoping the uptick continues as it could lead to some serious modernising of the city and surrounding area. And which the horse trading I've been doing overseas, the uptick may just go international, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I've heard a couple of whispers that a magister's title might be in my future, but again – not getting ahead of myself. Besides, do I really want to be tied to the Braavosiian elite when I get a-conquering? I mean, it'd be nice recognition wise as I'm earning a reasonably fair chunk of denarii but it'd also paint a huge target on my back. Especially when it came time to elect a new Sealord. Not that I wanted the job, I had other ideas.

Regardless, I have slowly begun to acquire maps of the disputed lands and of the Stepstones. Stories have it that the Stepstones are home to pirates, smugglers and other men of ill repute and I wonder if there's a way to take advantage of them without having to resort to violence. I'd hate to invest the denarii into some kind of naval force to only have the gains be temporary.

Still, if they were a disorganised mess then it wouldn't take too much to eliminate the pirate threat and make it stick. The problem after that would be keeping the territory, which wouldn't be too hard in theory if one controlled the place. Sometimes throwing money at a problem worked. And it would probably earn me some bonus points with whichever city-state in the area was the most dominate as I helped make trade easier.

It'd also act as a fun distraction to the fact that I'd be conquering the disputed lands under one banner. _My_ banner. No sense in doing all the hard work, and spending all the money, to just give it away to one of the city-states, who'd promptly lose two-thirds of the territory to in-fighting and jealousy. Better someone new then one of the old.

But this is all theory anyway, at least until I have a better idea of what I'm doing.

Unlike my rise to financial success, and my party outfits, I don't want anything I do militarily to be ramshackle and chaotic. Or to have to rely on some healthy injections of luck. Especially as I'd have to think of how the territory would be kept from being invaded or run roughshod over and managed effectively and efficiently.

Given the governing apparatuses of the Free Cities, the head of state/government would have to be elected. But by whom? And would they have a term or serve for life? Survey said for life, but options were always a thing to mull over while I waited.

**Braavos – 10****th**** Month, 291 AC**

As it turns out, I am a somewhat rich man. Having spent my money on naught but expanding my operations (with minimal loans) and small sundry expenses, I have not spent much. Extravagances were avoided for the most part and plotting to a minimum and the wages I pay reasonable (for a person from Earth). According to the Iron Bank and my own accountants, I have a decent chunk of change available to me.

The black powder has become somewhat popular according to the bank, and appears to have more civilian applications than military, so far. I'm expecting that to change fast, but having something allow people to mine deeper and clear pathways through rocky places has been a godsend.

I guess the mind-set is, why use powder when you have WildFyre? Which is true. But why use something so unstable when you have a safer option available? But that may just me waxing lyrical. And there aren't too many large scale wars going on at this point.

The nearest one is the War of Five Kings in, what, eight or so years? I could spent that time building up things and then striking while everyone's distracted. Maybe spend some time and resources on finding the Targaryen's and giving them a safe environment before entering them into the Game of Thrones.

If I could get Dany before she marries Drogo and make sure she marries someone from House Martell. With their resources and whatever I can put together, who knows what we could do? A whole heck of a lot I'd imagine.

But that's dependent on how heavily I want to get embroiled in that whole mess. And knowing my luck, I'd end up with a vassel of the Iron Throne with a Lordship, some land and something stupid like Master of Coin. Which would be hell, since the Iron Throne is hemmoraging money under Littlefingers careful _management_ and I'd have to put that right…

As much as I love a good challenge, I'd really rather not touch that hot mess.

**Braavos – 10****th**** Month, 291 AC**

Possible positions:

Master of Coin

Master of Ships

Steward of Commerce or Liaison to the Iron Bank (manage business holdings)

Master of Laws

Master of Whisperers

Should the Steward be under the Master of Coin or separate?

Add a Master of Roads to manage that particular task? Master of War (from show?) to manage taking over the Disputed Lands while I focus on other things?

Probably need to include puppet of Tyrosh, as that might be a good launch pad for things...

So many things to think about…


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note**

I will endeavour to update more often than I have been of late. However, between finishing University, life, and being forced to find a new flat, updates will be sporadic. But I will endeavour to update when I can. All I ask is for your collective patience in this time. I am enjoying writing this story as much as many of you appear to have reading it and I want to see it finished.

D72 – Thanks for the honest feedback. I will admit to it not being my usual standard, but it's been an interesting couple of weeks and I wanted to get something out.

ficreader2011 – It's definitely tempting. But we'll see…

That is all...

**Braavos – 11****th**** Month, 291 AC**

It would appear that my mind is made up on the subject of conquering.

My chances of returning back to Earth isn't looking likely at this point and it turns out I'm terrible at simply living here without making an impact. So, why not go full hog? Grab the bull by the horns even.

Besides, what better way to get revenge for Season 8 then by fucking with the whole series? Besides, if I put Danny on the throne before she goes full crazy with her dragons would be nice. And give the realm a chance to prepare for Winter.

Sure, convincing people of the Night King will be hard, but at least Danny might listen as opposed to Cersei's bullshit reaction. And Jon will be hopefully be down to show evidence soon-ish anyway if the books are going in a similar direction to the TV show.

Still tempted to just take my shit up North and give the Night Watch some assistance. Maybe after I've turned myself into a Lord. Speaking of that, I've figured out what to call myself once I conquer the Steppingstones – Lord of the Isles. After this title I read about on Wikipedia.

It's some kind of Irish or Scottish title, or something, and was even a Kingdom in its own right at one point.

So, yeah. Lord of the Isles. Short, to the point and not pretentious or anything.

Could even add keeping it as one of my conditions for supporting Danny and her brother if I can swing it. Along with the Disputed Lands. But I have to bloody find them first.

I've begun putting feelers out for Daenerys and her brother Viserys. Hopefully I can find them before their lives go completely to shit. Danny seemed like a nice kid and hopefully I can convince Viserys to not be a little shit while I figure out if I want to put them on the throne.

If not, I could always house them here in Braavos at my expense. They'd be safe relatively speaking, though Robert would probably try to hire assassins if he knew they were living here. Which would be a pain in the ass to deal with, but such is life.

If I get the Martell's on side, that'd help as they'd know who to talk to in Westeros about alliances and the like. Personally, with my plans I may not be able to participate in the early stages of the War of the Five Kings, but if I bring some forces around not long after Stannis sieges King's Landing...

Let's just say, the temptation to get one over Tywin is real.

All of that potential dickery aside, Targaryen searching isn't the only thing I'm doing as I'm sending feelers down to Slavers Bay to see about the acquisition of some Unsullied troops. The less I need to spend hiring sellswords in the long run the better, right?

In terms of sellsails, however, I may be in luck somewhat as it turns out there's apparently been a raise in piracy of late. Turns out the complacency of the Seven Kingdoms plus the infighting of the Free Cities has led to a rise to trouble.

Thankfully, that also means factions in the pirate community, 'cause nothing breads infighting like the smell of coin. So I should be able to use that. I've been using various hiring agents about the place to acquire both sellsails and sellswords and hiring co-ordinating through some office space I've rented near the docks here in Braavos.

Hiring someone else to co-ordinate was possibly a better idea, but at this point I wouldn't trust that person to not stab me in the back at the earliest opportunity. Besides, all of my businesses are practically self-perpetuating and running smoothly without my day-to-day management.

**Braavos – 11****th**** Month, 291 AC**

Juggling things is not an easy job. Not by any means.

With all the plots I have initiated, I may have bitten off a large mouthful. Thankfully they are all in early stages. Or at least most of them. The Westerosii spy situation from a while back is still unresolved, or at least faded to the background enough that I can ignore it.

Setting up the trade routes north (or up river as opposed to what I'm doing downriver) is turning over nicely. At least in the sense that I have more money coming in than going out.

The book business is slowing down, but that is to be expected as I run out of books to print and people able (or wanting to) buy them. However, agents are travelling to the other Free Cities to either drum up business or scout potential sites to set up shop. Or both. If the Maester's hadn't bought their own printing press, I'd be considering expanding operations to their shores.

The black powder situation is still going well, and the Alchemist Guild is churning out some… odd materials. They're being tight lipped about exactly why, but they're paying me my percentage of the profits so I'm not asking too many questions. For now at least.

That'll come back to bite me in the ass, I just know it. But I have too much going on to do more than be paranoid about what I eat and drink.

Acquiring the fleet of smaller ships and their related loans is showing some promising signs.

You know, I really will be glad to leave this to a Master of Coin or Profits or whatever. Just so they have to worry about keeping this straight and not me. Hell, I should really be doing more handing it off as it is, 'cause it is only going to get busier.

Le sigh. Is it too late to go back to just worrying about where my next paycheque was coming from?


	11. Chapter 11

**Braavos – 12****th**** Month, 291 AC**

I have been busy and there is much to report.

The Targaryen children have been found, and I am currently negotiating their safe transfer to my custody. Or at least the Iron Bank is negotiating, as I am attempting to keep my part in the proceedings as quiet as possible. Best they come in as strangers then as the claimants to the Iron Throne. I wish as little trouble from King Robert Fuckwit as possible for the moment and opening housing the Targaryen's is a great way to go about that.

When I have time and the inclination, I will send a message to Lord Varys to see if something can be worked out in getting them back on the throne. If I can avoid the War of the Five Kings in seven or so years, all the better. But I still have my projects to work on and they take priority for the moment.

The assembling of a naval force goes well. As it turns out, Braavos is a great place to look for sellsails and sellswords. The gentlemen I have left in charge of that particular project report that we will have a large enough force by the end of the month to go forward.

No word yet from those who I have sent to negotiate for the services of the Unsullied, but that is expected. It is both a long distance and a long process. With the numbers I am wanting, it won't be cheap. Thankfully I have enough of a standing with the Bank that incurring debt won't be a problem. Especially as I setting as many of my projects within projected incomes as I can.

While I will need a standing force to keep the stepstones, hopefully it will not be as large as the force needed to take it.

Those in the know have wondered why I would not wed Daenerys Targaryen myself and use her political clout to further my own causes. While I am in this new world, where the age between husband and wife doesn't always need to be as close as on Earth to be considered non-taboo, I am still from Earth and hold more than a couple of the related ingrained western beliefs. Also adding to the fact is that I really don't want to get mixed up in Westerosi politics.

I'm having a hard enough time dealing with the Braavosi kind and that's where I live. It has been through share luck and unintentional skill that I've avoided problems so far.

Speaking of that, I have been approached to help fund the end of the Braavosi calendar year. Apparently they follow a similar calendar to the western cultures of Earth and their New Year and ours roughly align. According to the messenger who came to my apartments the Magistrate's send round a collection plate to the high-level merchants to help throw an end-of-year blow out for the citizens and denizens of the city.

I'm not against that in the slightest, though I did my double checking to make sure I wasn't being duped. I've been managing to avoid getting a reputation as an easy mark and have been succeeding so far. Let us see if I can continue it. But, I have instructed the Bank to send along my contribution to the event. Hopefully I will be able to attend this year as I apparently missed out last year due to… apparent pure ignorance and getting stupidly drunk in my apartments and the nearby pub. Though it may explain why I ended up with a lady or two slapping me in the days following.

Not entirely surprising that, as I can be a thick headed ignoramus at times.

**Braavos – 12****th**** Month, 291 AC**

I may have tripled the number of slaps from last year. But there are so many beautiful women… And I money to spend…

**Braavos – 1****st**** Month, 291 AC**

As it turns out, that I am well known amongst the poorer folk for my generosity, friendliness and the fact that I apparently come from their number. As it turns out, many of the number at the tavern I used to call home thought I was a local full of good stories about where I was from. I will not complain or correct as it adds to my mystique and must've confused whichever Small Councillor who was asking after me.

My popularity made partying during New Year's much easier and led to me laying with more than one lass, as I apparently briefly mentioned in these writings previous. It also led to me getting slapped by a few maidens, punched by a few husbands and glared at by a few fathers. The things we do while black out drunk, I guess.

Progress has been made on my armada. It is complete and rearing to go.

The plan is to take and use Tyrosh as a base of operations for the push into the stepstones. That invasion alone will take a month or two, and that's being generous, and presuming that the other nearby free cities don't decide to chime in with their own two denarii.

Personally, I could do without Tyrosh, but according to the Captains of both the sellsail fleets and the sellsword companies it's a necessary step. And an important financial base for them, I guess, if I end up being unable to pay the promised prices for their services. Which is fair.

So long as I hold up my end, which I intend to do, I get to add Archon of Tyrosh to the list of titles I will be accruing as I go along. I am sorely tempted to just roll it into the Lord of the Isles title, but I don't want to rock to many boats (proverbially) so I may just end up being Bilbo of House Baggins, first of his name, Archon of Tyrosh, Lord of the Isles. But that's getting ahead of myself.

The armada is due to set sail within the week and arrive near Tyrosh within a month. Hopefully by then I've smoothed the fact that I established an armada within the territory of Braavos with the Sealord and the Magistrates. This may involve parting with a decent chunk of change in the forms of bribes, fines and pay-outs. Which is fine, but it does strain the budget somewhat as I had to put together more than a few down payments on the various mercenaries I hired. Some of the more intelligent or world-weary gentlemen wanted at least partial payment up front before doing the job.

That was fair, but it took a reasonable amount of doing. Getting together a sufficiently decent amount of coin together is about as easy in Braavos as it is on Earth. But it was done with the assistance of the ever present Bank. I may be relying on them and their services a little overmuch, but it's not like I have a choice at this point and I doubt they have any complaints.

Regardless, while dealing with a whole bunch of things, I have to find someone learned in the law and figure out how navigate the whole '_I established an armed force in one countries territory to invade another_' situation. So, off to the bank?


End file.
